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Recall Poon Commandment VII, because Trump just obeyed it.

VII. Always keep two in the kitty

Never allow yourself to be a “kept man”. A man with options is a man without need. It builds confidence and encourages boldness with women if there is another woman, a safety net, to catch you in case you slip and risk a breakup, divorce, or a lost prospect, leading to loneliness and a grinding dry spell. A woman knows once she has slept with a man she has abdicated a measure of her power; when she has fallen in love with him she has surrendered nearly all of it. But love is ephemeral and with time she may rediscover her power and threaten to leave you. It is her final trump card. Withdrawing all her love and all her body in an instant will rend your soul if you are faced with contemplating the empty abyss alone. Knowing there is another you can turn to for affection will fortify your will and satisfy your manhood.

If you’ve been keeping abreast of the news lately (after dutifully sifting through the 99% of it that’s Fake anti-White and anti-Trump trash), you’ll have noticed Trump making overtures to some Dems on raising the debt ceiling and reworking the tax code.

Trump is doing exactly what I predicted he would do after eight months of the GOPe thwarting him at every turn: dissociating himself from Congressional recucklicans and threatening their 2018 midterm prospects by reaching out to Dems. This is CLASSIC push/pull Game. Works on girls, works on cucks.

It’s also a bracing demonstration of CH Poon Commandment VII: Always keep two in the kitty. Trump has some major Dems lined up as working partners (however temporary) who are situated to reap the legislative and midterm election rewards if their partnership is successful. The Dems are like plate #2 in Trump’s kitchen vaginet (aka his cherry-go-round). Their purpose is to instill dread in Trump’s primary girl, the GOPe.

But the GOPe cucks have been trying to divorce Trump since he announced his candidacy. They have withdrawn their love from Trump, so he has responded by reminding them he has another “woman” waiting for him on the side. This has had the predictable effect of scaring the shit out of the GOPe cucks, who stand to lose no matter what happens now — they either lose their midterm election prospects to the blossoming Trump-Dem alliance, or they lose their Chamber of Commerce big money donors by finally giving Trump the populist agenda he wants.

This is more evidence that he Game that works on women is the same Game that works on….well, womanly men like GOPe cucks and Dems.

PS Here’s an incredibly based video clip of Steve Bannon (pbuh) delivering a two minute shitlord salvo of realtalk that blows open the reality of the swamp’s existence and its tireless efforts to sabotage Trump.

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Subliminal Seduction

NLP — Neuro Linguistic Programming — is a fancy term to describe subliminal rhetoric that plays on the natural human tendency to suggestibility (aka the need to feed the ego). It’s a quasi-science that is probably overblown but does offer some feints of tongue that can assist in seducing women.

An example from my dating life: I asked a girl to dance…more precisely, I told a girl she was about to dance with me…and while I normally don’t do Dance Game I will indulge if the girl I’m interested in looks like she has two left feet. The comparison makes me look better on the dance floor than I am, and more importantly her awkward rug-cutting opens fresh avenues of value display and subliminal flirting.

We danced. She stumbled a bit (as I assumed she would from a quick visual analysis of her mind-body-physiognomy axis). She grinned sheepishly, and apologized.

CONCEALED CARRY WEAPON OF LOVE: “Ok, you’ll bend backward a little after the third step…step one……step two…….aaand step 3….bend back!”

HER: *bends at a clumsy angle* “See, I’m not much of a dancer.”

CONCEALED CARRY WEAPON OF LOVE: “You’re a natural.”

HER: “Hah, no I’m not.”

CONCEALED CARRY WEAPON OF LOVE: “Don’t run from it.”

We stop dancing, I chat her up off-stage, and then exit while she’s distracted by someone else she knows. FYI this tactic of stealthily exiting a budding flirtship unannounced, and returning twenty minutes later to a mouth-agape eye-widened curious girl wondering where you went off to, is dynamite on a girl’s mental vagina. It’s the best way to end a dance, because it sidesteps the risk of seeming overly enthusiastic and attached to a girl after dancing with her in which the forced physical contact is bound to energize her self-perceived SMV, shit testing and anti-slut defense.

The real tingle generator is in the line, “don’t run from it.” This is what I call an Alpha Compliment. While alphas don’t typically compliment girls, when they do their compliments are distinctly potent, because they don’t compliment women’s physical assets (unless to neg them) and their compliments are worded in a way that is easily construed as 1. an assessment of the girl’s CHARACTER and 2. a qualifying statement that sounds like the man is trying to make the girl live up to his standards.

(Expressing a hint of disappointment in a girl is a powerful courtship accelerator. She will work harder to win your approval than she would with a man who had nothing but effusive praise and comforting words when she denigrated herself.)

The NLP of the line is the subconscious insinuation that what the girl should not run from is YOU, rather than from the dance floor or her natural talents. I have practiced this line in-field a lot and the impression it leaves with girls is always positive; her eyes will momentarily sparkle, a smile will drift across her face, and a lurch to feigned indignation (to salvage her “qualified” ego) will push her deeper into a mutually satisfying rapport.

You can use the line in just about any scenario, so if you hate dancing don’t think this tactic is closed to you. Give it a try at least, and report back here with tales of conquest or woe; either will suffice as learning tools.

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Trump’s Compliance Game

Donald Trump has Game. It’s a contributing factor to his improbable ascension to the White House. His message coupled with his charisma won the hearts of many Americans.

Trump’s command of core Game techniques is a marvel to behold. He reframes, he plows through resistance, he agrees & amplifies, he disqualifies, he assumes the sale. He’s a master seducer, of women and of voters, even of those who would not normally be his natural constituency. In this video, you’ll watch Trump deliver an excellent example of “Compliance Game” on a black dude who doesn’t at first seem too pleased with Trump. Skip to 4:20 for the relevant bantz.

The black guy complains about something and Trump listens, asks him to point out whomever it is the black guy is mentioning as part of his complaint, and then Trump tells him to “bring those people over here”, after which the black guy says “yes, sir” with enthusiasm and trots off to do the President a solid.

You’ll like a person for whom you do a favor more than you’ll like a person who does a favor for you. This is the Personal Investment Halo Effect that Game cleverly exploits to help men seduce women who might otherwise be out of their league.

The purpose of compliance testing is to gauge interest and, more powerfully, to increase interest through manipulating the perception of investment. If a person complies with your request, he or she will feel like they’ve invested something of themselves in you and your well-being, and thus will perceive you having high value or moral worth, because why else would they do something for you? Trump gets this aspect of human nature, and you can see it in action in the above video as he easily mingles among the “commoners” despised by our insular, credentially inbred elites, who have to take classes to learn how to communicate with them in the robotic patois that defined Hillary Clinton’s interactions with the rabble.

The triggering irony is that our first implicitly white nationalist president is more comfortable jiving with regular black folks than our first half-black oval office squatter Gay Mulatto ever was. Will the leftoid media accurately report this reality? HA.

FYI this is why I have always contended that obama wan’t our first black prez. He was our first SWPL president. A president for effete craft brew sipping urbane shitlib whites with zero muscle tone….because he IS one of them. Obama is exhibit A in the thesis that race is more than skin color…..race goes to the bone. And obama’s bone-deep race pilfered a lot of DNA from his megamandibled single white mama who was virtue sniveling before it was a thing.

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UPDATE BELOW

Reader sigsawyer emailed a story about one of his pickups that could double as a “test of your Game” post. I’m game, so here it is.

Greetings to the Chateau and all its dark proprietors.

I’ve got a recent story of pickup success that I realized would be great as one of those old ‘test of your game’ style posts. It’s, um, illustrative to say the least. If you decide to make a post out of it, cut the ‘answer’ part off and post it a couple of days later. Or just share as is and judge my game.

So the other night I take a couple of junior coworkers out to the bar. Both on visas from Eastern Europe. [ed: I like where this is heading] One being cute and the other maybe a 5. Both have killer bodies, but I digress. (Much fun was poked at fat American women.) I’d already more or less written off the cute one as a prospect since I’d taken her out before and failed to get anywhere.

On that occasion I took her down to the beach late at night with a bottle of pinot noir and we went skinny dipping in the warm choppy waters of the summer Atlantic. Aka the nuclear pussy-buster date for when I need the snatch to open now.

No doubt. If you’ve ever swam (swum?) in the ocean at night, especially away from light pollution, there’s an exhilarating apprehension that creeps up on you. The sea is black, the sound of the surf is sharpened, the moonlight dances off the water, and you wonder if sharks are swimming nearby. It’s a COCKtail of emotions guaranteed to doubly moisten pussy.

I was set on bold bustamoveness because her English wasn’t good enough to catch nuanced negs and witty banter. Besides, I know those EE girls need a show of strength to crack their icy bitch shield. And I’m talking a smug, haughty girl here. An openly rude one. So I ramp up the teasing and assholery- splashing her with water, pretending to be Jaws and chasing after her, biting her leg.

She’s giving me plenty of shit tests (mostly accusations of assholery, childishness), and they don’t stop once I’ve parried a few. But then again, she stripped naked and got in the water with me, and she’s not objecting to the kino. So I move in for a kiss and she resists it. At the time I figure that since I’m the senior, the local, and a coolasfuck dude, that I’d actually raised my value too high and gotten her anti-slut defense to rev up. It’s a recurring problem for my game.

So I dial back the interaction, move on to some comfort themes, and try to get her focused on the emotional high of the moment. But she’s not biting, we get cold in the water, and the mood fizzles out while we’re grubbing around the dark beach for our clothes. So I drive her carless ass home.

Anyway, I don’t put much thought into following up since I’ve got a few in the kitty and she’s legit a pain in the ass. But I end up inviting her and her friend out to the bar, figuring I could either use the two girls as a pivot or spark something back up. The 5 is a fun girl even if my target is a brat, so I’d be able to entertain myself at least, or plunder her lithe little body as a last resort.

In the bar, one of the cheaper places in town, we run into some of my friends out of sheer coincidence and I make introductions. I’m acting pretty aloof, enjoying how unsurprised my buddies are about me walking into the spot with two Euro chicks.

Good friends will not blow your cover by hollering crap like “wow dude two chicks! high five, playa!”

The girls can tell too, but I’m not putting much effort into gaming them. I hit on two other chicks in close proximity- one is too wasted to even understand Styles ring routine and the other gets engaged when I tease her SWPLy job, but her mixed set doesn’t really appreciate my intrusion and we awkwardly fizzle out- I was a bit too tipsy to give a shit about befriending the group first.

Eventually the scene gets lame and we move the party over to my friend’s house nearby- we’re out back around a fire and I’ve been basically ignoring my target all night, except to tell her she drinks manly beer and to tease her about not wanting to dance. My other friends are trying to hit on her but its not going any better than my first time. One of my friends starts making out with the 5 in front of everybody. They eventually retire to somewhere private. I tell my target “Don’t get any ideas, I value my modesty”. She gets up from her Aderondack chair and slowly pours her drink over my head.

What do you do? Hint: I fucked up back on the beach, but I was wrong about how.

This is a great segue into serious Game analysis. An icy HBEE that walked away from a post-skinny-dipping beach lay later pours a beer over the head of the same man at a backyard party. And a SLOW pour, too, which is intended to send a much stronger message than a fast pour. Sigsawyer left the answer after this segue, but I’ll ignore it for now to put my own powers of pickup critique to the test.

My take is that he blew it by letting up on the attraction gas pedal at the beach, when she was amped and ready for a same night lay. Sure, she put up token resistance (what hot woman doesn’t?), but sigsawyer miscalculated when he dialed down the heat and went into comfort mode. The scene and the feelings were too intense by that point for a reverse into comfort game to do anything but diminish the girl’s arousal. And a girl taken from a high arousal state to a lower arousal state will resent the man who did it to her.

Essentially, where sigsawyer messed up was moving the seduction phase before the comfort phase. He brought her to a “fuck me now” high then took her back down to “an uninterested man asking me harmless questions about my life” low.

Thus, when she was with him at the backyard party, and he was still teasing her, she misinterpreted his taunts as that of a man who had rejected her and was having fun at her expense. You could say she almost felt betrayed. The slow pour was her way of expressing her feeling of being betrayed. All of her resentment is exacerbated by the sight of her less cute friend making out with another man.

What I would do: If I had a drink in my hand, I would splash it in her face. If not, I would grab her wrist and move in close, so that she could feel my hot breath and my anger. Then, I’d wait a few beats for the tension to grow and make another move on her lips. This is the kind of girl who’s in a frame of mind in which only direct, uninhibited, masculine escalation will suffice to break down her bitch shield.

Was I right? I’ll check sigsawyer’s answer later, and update this post with his story’s conclusion. In the meantime, I’ll throw this test of your game to the commenters. Is your Game analysis tight? Could you have closed the deal with HBEE?

****

And now we find out how the story ended. From sigsawyer,

ANSWER:
I look her in the eye for a pregnant second. Then, without standing up, I slap her hard across the face. Like a tight right hook with an open hand. Her eyes light up and suddenly everything clicks. The first time I tried to fuck her? She wasn’t turned off by my copious douchery, she was turned off because she was the kind of chick who gave guys shit because she wanted to be put in her damn place. I reach up, grab her hair, and yank her down to my mouth; she responds with moaning, crotch-soaked enthusiasm. We end up fucking in the backyard of an empty vacation house on the walk back to her room.

If you’d told me pre-redpill that I would be picking up hot Eastern Euro girls by slapping them Sean Connery-style… well I’d be fucking elated if I believed you. But it’s a good lesson to never forget the dark heart of woman.

Yep as I suspected, sigsawyer ruined the beach night by moving from arousal backwards into comfort blabbing, and that’s why she poured the beer over his head. But recall ancient CH wisdom: Indifference, not hate, is the opposite of love. A slow-poured beer over the head is another way of saying a deluge of tingles in the cleft. The beer was her resentment and frustration; his response immediately and unquestioningly snapped her back into that arousal state she was in during the skinny-dip beach night. His alpha ZFG masculinity now proved beyond a shadow of a doubt, she was able to flower for him and answered his primal display with her own.

And yes, my experience with EE girls is that they are very particular about their men showing real alpha grit. EE women need to know their men can be hard as fuck (in all manifestations of that term) when it matters. Their shit tests are geared to eliciting the most masculine response possible. Few American beta males pass these tests because they can’t even.

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A very powerful feeling for a man is walking out on a date because the girl dissatisfied him with her opinions or behavior.
Very few men do this.
More men should.
It’s exhilarating and builds masculine character, which has positive knock on effects for other girls he dates.

Male choosiness — and the associated behavior that naturally emerges from it — is a male SMV amplifier. Men who express a refined, discriminating taste in women, and an exquisite discernment of which women qualify for the pleasure of his company, are adored by women because choosy men have an aura of preselection. The choosy man becomes the chased, rather than the chaser.

It’s a lot easier to call the shots and direct the tempo when you’re the one being chased.

Adhering to exacting standards in women is a strong signal of attractiveness to women, given that women will assume, usually rightly, that a man willing to cavalierly reject potential mates is a man who has many other women in his queue. He is therefore “that guy* aka the alpha male of women’s dreams.

Then there is the rarity and unpredictability of male choosiness. When the average woman can go years, or even a lifetime, without suffering the indignity of a man walking out on her during a date for failing to meet his expectations in feminine demeanor, the rare man who pulls off the feat will seem a Golden God to her. She will invest so much dreamscape energy into wondering why he rejected her and what he has going on for himself that she’ll gasp with sudden and self-conscious arousal if she sees him crossing the street months later.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the choosy man enriches an inner reservoir of self-entitlement and self-confidence that is absolutely thrilling to women. Try it sometime. If you date enough women, you will inevitably come across an ur-cunt. You know the type; she stares at her phone during the date, hassles the wait staff, and talks about her exes, all the while demanding to know in so many words what you have to offer to her.

The mediocre masses of beta males would just grin and bear it, hoping their awful date has a last minute change of heart when her nasty woman turns into a sex goddess and ends the beta’s night on a thigh note. That never happens for the beta, but still…beta persisted.

The triumph of hope over experience is the beta male’s epitaph.

Instead of slip-streaming into the void of faceless nutless beta males that women treat with the same consideration they do houseplants, be one of those exciting jerkboys who prematurely deep sixes a date when the girl is cunting out. I promise, she’ll never forget you after that. I also promise that you’ll feel an incomparable rush of power. This is your mind-body axis telling you that what you did will ricochet to your reproductive fitness benefit in the future with other girls.

That glow of power is unmistakable to you, and it’s acutely perceptible to women, who have evolved a sensitive limbic radar for picking up cues of dominance and power and mastery in men.

PS Here’s Ryan Reynolds’ with the solid photoneg.

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Going Commando

Won’t you graze thigh free ball yeah

How have I been so remiss to have never discussed this topic before? Free-balling — going commando — is an effective means of fortifying your Inner Game and of projecting that ZFG Martin Shkrelli-esque jerkboy entitlement that beguiles goils.

When you’re strutting through public throngs and antifa freak shows with only a character-building starchy denim preventing your cock from raping the world, you can’t help but feel like a pussy slayer and renegade from the stifling soul prison of our globohomo corporatocracy.

It’s even better to let your boys breathe easy at night, in steamy ova-scented bars and clubs. There’s nothing quite like the exhilaration of approaching and chatting up a hot chick while unbeknownst to her your half-chubbed meat sniffs around her twat trench through one precarious layer of fabric stretched to its absolute restraining limit.

HODOR! HODOR! HOLD THE HAMMER OF THOR!

Bonus exhilaration if you’re wearing loose-fitting shorts in a Miami den of iniquity, and an insolent spheroid squeezes past a sentinel seam.

Going commando means taking command of your environment. When you free-ball, girls won’t miss that mischievous smirk that tells them you are hiding secret knowledge, something delicious and naughty that would scandalize wilting flowers. Plus, free-balling is a bedroom accelerant. Take her home, strip off clothes, she gasps as your falling jeans reveal fruit minus the loom, and wonders if you were expecting her surrender all along, an expectation which she will happily oblige.

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Tiki Torch Vigils

Just like candlelight vigils, except with bigger candles!

This has been an edition of Your Daily Reframe.

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